A Ring of Fire
by Scarlett Jaimie
Summary: Last entry in het 2009 Sunny, Funny Ficathon. Just remember that we were allowed to make it as crazy as we wanted it to be. Gefeliciteerd, Kapiteintje!


**A/N: As some of you will remember, we organized a Ficathon last summer that was meant to be Sunny and Funny. Some multi-chapter stories are still waiting for a proper ending (Yes, I am looking at YOU, you know who you are!) However, a few writers were not able to give us a story for their assignment, and one of them received their prompt from SparrowFlight. I promised CaptScarlett I would take on the challenge of writing a fic for that prompt and since it is the Captain's birthday today, this is as good a time as any to post it. For those who hate an 'R&S in the future' fic, you better stop reading now. **

**A Ring of Fire**

_Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, Nashville, 1963_

Scarlett O'Hara, one half of the famous country singing duo _Turbulence & Tranquillity_, enjoyed a cool beer while watching her singing partner perform a solo set. He was wearing his signature white cowboy hat and had the usual faraway look in his eyes, while he sang one of his famous songs: the theme always the one of a love that could not be and usually performed with a sentimental sob in his voice. She sat at one of the booths a little bit away from the stage and took in the all familiar scene in front of her. Behind the podium there were pictures of the many famous singers that had sung at this bar in the past, she could distinguish her own image next to greater legends as Patsy Cline and Willy Nelson. The Lounge signature orchid colour gave the room a distinct purple glow, something that made Scarlett normally feel at home, but gave her a slight headache today.

Usually she also had an admiring glow in her eyes when listening to her hero but this was absent today. Absent, because Ashley Wilkes had told her earlier that he wanted to pursue a solo career; he no longer seemed to need her and him severing their bond so rudely had hurt more to her than she cared to admit. As a young girl, introduced by the record company to the handsome Ashley Wilkes, she had fallen in love with him head over heels. For years she had dreamt of becoming his wife; not even Ashley's marriage to Melanie Hamilton - his former costumier - and the subsequent birth of their son Beau, had distorted that dream. She knew that she was much more of a woman than Melly would ever be and she had easily dismissed Ashley's foolish marriage as some sort of prank to make her jealous. Why, he had told her on occasion how much he cared for her and they had even shared the one or two kisses after a show. She had waited on the sidelines, always impatient but never showing any signs of it to Ashley, who she knew held a woman's gentleness in high regard.

'It is time we went our separate ways, Scarlett,' he had said earlier that evening, his shoulders slumped, looking like a man defeated.

In response, she had only nodded, unable to form words. To soften the blow he had pointed out to her that she had a large following of fans of her own. This was true, she had many admirers, most of them of the male kind. Because men worshipped her while women envied her. She was not what could be called a natural beauty; some would think her features a bit unfeminine due to a strong jaw bone combined with a pointy chin but God had given her a body that had only been copied by Barbie herself. Her tiny waist gave her a perfect glass-hour figure because both her bosom and her hips were as round as woman's could be. Men usually forgot to look her in the face when they first met her and if they got around to that they were just as mesmerized by the unusual green of her eyes.

That was one of the things that she adored in Ashley, he was more of a gentleman than most men she knew; he had always treated her with kindness and respect. She was certain he admired her beauty but more as an educated person would admire a well-sculpted statue, not in a coarse and vulgar manner.

Not that she was complaining about the other man's reactions; she would not be here today – a famous and wealthy singer of country ballads - if men did not respond to her the way they did. She knew her voice – although sweet - was nothing special compared to most of her female colleagues; it was mostly the way she filled out her country designer shirts that made people take notice of her when she took the stage.

Mechanically she clapped when Ashley had finished his first song of the night and when he played the accords for the next one she ducked her head low; it was one of those songs that made people want to do a partner dance and she was in no mood to be swooped across the dance floor by some hillbilly reeking of beer. She froze when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder but soon she recognized the touch; only one man she knew was able to squeeze her shoulder with such gentleness and noticeable strength at the same time. While she turned her face up to give him a welcoming smile, she wondered about the strange shiver that suddenly ran up her back.

Rhett Butler, oil baron and reputed womanizer, stood before her wearing one of his signature black suits. The turtle neck he was wearing underneath it would have been more appropriate for some Parisian cocktail bar than a Nashville brawl room but even Scarlett had to admit that the way the sweater set off his bronze-coloured jaw line made him look very attractive. She had never seen Rhett Butler dressed in anything but black and, privately, Scarlett maliciously compared the darkness of his suits to the colour of his soul for he was a scoundrel if ever she had seen any. She heard that he worked hard and long on the oil fields that he owned but she only knew him as the Lounge regular, who liked to gamble, drink and philander, all in equal measure.

She was not on his long list of conquests although he had tried to lure her into his bed when they met about a decade ago. But then she had already lost her heart to Ashley and although Rhett was a man with a lot of charisma, she had never been one of those country starlets that would hop into the bed of any wealthy admirer she came across. He seemed to have given up the chase pretty early in their acquaintance – something that annoyed her till this day; she loved to have that kind of power over a man - and now she regarded him as a good - yet foulmouthed - friend.

'Rhett!' she exclaimed while she got up to receive the obligatory peck on the cheek. 'I heard you struck oil again and would not be visiting this area for a while, so how come you are here now?'

'Well, there are a lot of fun things you can do in Texas, but so far I have not come across a half-decent country act. Besides, I miss seeing your dimples when I'm gone,' he added with a wide smirk on his swarthy face.

The fact that his flattery was accompanied by a mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes, told her that he was only mocking her, as he liked to do more often. He had never made it a secret that he found her an attractive woman, one he would bed gladly and reward generously – as she had seen him do often in the past with other 'victims'. She used all her female powers on him, but he never seemed to be under her spell. Where other men would stutter when she gave them the amount of attention she bestowed on Rhett, all her fluttering and dimpling had not apparent effect on him. In the past he had made it abundantly clear that he was not interested in a steady relationship, let alone marriage. And since she had no interest in becoming anybody's mistress – Ashley Wilkes the one possible example – she was fine with the platonic friendship they shared. That was not to say that she would not have appreciated a genuine compliment from him every now and then.

Before she had the chance to tell him what a varmint he was, he had taken her hand and was dragging her off to the dance floor.

'Oh, no, Rhett, not tonight, I am not in the mood,' she protested while her feet followed him meekly.

'Well, that's too bad; you know it is my habit to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room and tonight, wearing that that green satin blouse, you are definitely the most attractive female here.'

His eyes swooped over her. The tassels that decorated the breast area of her shirt bounced merrily, causing him to smile. A smile that turned desirous when he noticed how her hips were decked out in black velvet trousers. He gave her body a more than lecherous stare before he turned his eyes up and gave her a wicked stare. Scarlett's breath faltered for a moment; she knew that she should be insulted by the indecent way in which he was able to undress her with his eyes, but his brutal stares always awoke something coarse inside her and involuntarily her hand went to her bosom. She caressed the warm skin right above her shirt with her fingertips, staring dreamily into nothingness.

She did not notice that the look in Rhett's eyes had changed meanwhile. Gone was the bravado; a clear desperate longing could be seen in them now. By the time her now brilliant green eyes looked into his, this look was replaced by an impenetrable gaze.

Once they reached the dance floor they easily fell into the pace of the dance, both comfortable in each other's presence and enjoying the other's dancing skills.

At some point Rhett surprised Scarlett by twisting her around in an unprecedented turn. She had no idea that he was trying to steer her away from an old acquaintance of his; a local Asian hooker with the improbable name of Pumpkin Lee.

Long ago, when he had only recently started to visit Tootsie's Orchid Lounge and had realized that the attractive green-eyed singer he saw on stage only had eyes for the married man that was her singing partner, he had drowned his sorrow and frustration by frequenting that same hooker. The olive-skinned woman with the long black hair had done her utmost to make him forget her; she had succeeded on some nights with fine oriental arts he had not had the good fortune to come across before. Yes, he had enjoyed Pumpkin's company very much those days and he had soon discovered that for a prostitute she was a very clever woman. She actually possessed a level of intelligence that could have easily made her a professor if the circumstances of her upbringing had been different. When he tired of her he had bought Pumpkin's silence by setting her up in business; Nashville's Oriental Massage Parlour was mostly financed by his oil money. An arrangement they were mutually satisfied with until Scarlett got wind of his liaison with the woman.

It happened on one of those evenings in which he had made another futile attempt to make Scarlett see the truth about her relationship with the dreamy-eyed golden boy of country. Upon hearing his speech she had, to his surprise, revealed an interest into his own private life.

'I don't care to discuss Ashley with you because you can't understand him or his kind of love. The only kind of love you know about is just--well, the kind you carry on with creatures like that Pumpkin-woman,' she had shouted to him, which subsequently resulted in their most heated argument to date.

Since that day he had steered clear of Pumpkin and her brothel; not that he regretted anything in his past, but it was no use reminding his heart's desire of his wilder days. Not now that he thought he actually stood a chance of winning her heart. For he hoped it was not only disgust with which she had spat those words to him. In his more conceited moments he actually believed he had seen signs of jealousy in that transparent face of her.

That reminded him; he had never seen her little face look as sad as when he had walked into the bar earlier this evening. Scarlett was a girl that never let anything make her unhappy for too long; she had a resilience that he admired. That he recognized. But today she seemed depressed for some reason, even the way she moved around him while dancing was different. She was elegant and feminine, like always, but her usual spark was missing.

'So tell me, Scarlett, what has the misty-eyed crooner done this time to upset you?' he whispered in her ear before he took her hand to guide her into making the compulsory turn; luckily he was so much taller than her, so there was no chance of him messing up her cotton-candy like coiffure - piled on top of her head as if it was meant to be a replica of Mount Everest. Rhett's fingers always itched to undo the pins in that mountain of hair, brush the hairspray out of it and subsequently let his hands slide through the silk-like weaves.

Rhett got so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear her answer at first. Scarlett frowned when she noticed that he was not paying any attention.

'Did you hear me, Rhett? _Turbulence & Tranquillity_ will be no more; Ashley has decided that it is time for solo careers. This might be the last time you and I dance like this; I have decided that I will go back to Georgia and rethink my future. '

'Well, I have always favoured turbulence over tranquillity.' he answered smoothly. 'Who needs peace and quiet? That is something for old folks; you are still very young, Scarlett, you can be anything you want to be. And in case you need somebody to back you up, I am here for you.'

Scarlett looked up to see if he was being sarcastic again, but for once his face looked sincere.

'Aw, Rhett, that is so nice of you. I'm sure my family will be no help at all. They never support me in anything I do; they just cash the cheques I write them and they never say as much as thank you, let alone inquire how I am doing. I could use a friend and you…'

'Now, hold on, Scarlett, when I said back you up, I meant it purely in a financial sense...' he decided to forgo the cruel joke he was about to make when he saw her face drop

They were at the part in the dance where they had to walk shoulder to shoulder, his arm securely around her. Her slim waist, tightly strapped in an accentuating white leather belt, fitted neatly in the grip of his large hand.

'But if you need a friend, honey, you know that I am here for you too, ' he whispered in a deep voice while pulling her body closer against his.

Scarlett blinked several times in surprise before she cast her eyes down, afraid to show Rhett just how much his words had touched her. She felt sheltered by Rhett's strong arm around her, by his warm and solid body against her.

How wonderful it must be to have such a strong man by your side all the time, she mused before she blushed with shame over these thoughts. Thoughts he would surely laugh at if she had dared to express them out loud.

Rhett twisted her away from him, as the dance required. Suddenly so far away from him, Scarlett felt disoriented which caused her to miss a few steps and stumble.

'Maybe it is better if we sit down for now,' he said with concern. Not waiting for a reply he directed her to the side of the dance floor.

No! was her body's silent protest. She wanted to stay close to him for a while. She needed his strength to make feel better; she needed to feel the currents of his energy flow through her before she could face the rest of this miserable day.

'No', she said weakly.

When she saw him lift two ink-black eyebrows she hurried to explain herself.

'The next song is my favourite. Please dance some more with me, Rhett.' The frown left his face and just as easily he steered her back unto the dance floor. She was grateful that he resumed both the dance and the conversation without asking her any questions.

Rhett Butler had been a good friend to her over the years. A very good and generous friend. Of course it was easy for him to shower her with gifts; he had more money than he could ever spend in this lifetime. However, it was not only the jewellery and other trinkets he had given her over the years what made him such a special friend. He had always been there to listen to her, to mock her and make her see sense if needed, or to make her laugh with one of his silly stories in case she had been feeling blue. And blue she had mostly felt due to Ashley.

Maybe Ashley was right; it was time to move on. She was almost thirty now, if she ever wanted to settle down there was no time like the present, now that her beauty had not yet started to fade. She watched Rhett dance; how gracefully he turned on his feet. Now there was a fine looking man. Tall, handsome and good fun too, if he was in the right mood for it. If only he was more of a family man; the kind that would make a woman feel secure, the kind of man you can trust to come home to you at night. The kind that would not have a roaming eye.

But Scarlett knew there was no change of that. After all, over the years he had had affairs with many women. Not that he ever talked to her about those things, but she listened to gossip like every other person and, from what she heard, the women were numerous. She counted a few of his conquests amongst the women in this club tonight. There was the Pumpkin woman; although she was a professional hussy, her relationship with Rhett had been more than just that between a prostitute and her client. To her shock she realized that she had been staring at the woman, who in turn was regarding her with an amused grin on her face and Scarlett quickly turned her head away only to notice Jenny, The Orchid Lounge's longest serving waitress. The tall, ginger-haired woman with the bright smile was another one of Rhett's former mistresses. She had spent a night with him about a year ago and Scarlett had overheard her described that night to the other waitresses; it seemed to be one of those nights you only read about in books and Scarlett had felt envious when hearing it.

She had even gone as far as tease Rhett with the hungry looks that Jenny kept giving him afterwards. At one point Rhett had felt the need to reassure her that Jenny was a nice girl, but not the kind of woman that could keep him interested for long. As if Scarlett needed reassurance; it was not as if she had ever been interested in him as anything other than a friend.

But if she was honest, she had to admit that since she heard Jenny describe Rhett's lover-like abilities, she had found herself staring at Rhett's clear cut mouth one or two times, wondering how it would feel to be kissed by those sensuous lips. Scarlett had been saving herself for Ashley all these years and for a woman in her late twenties her sexual experiences were few. There had been a clumsy tumble with Melly Hamilton's teenage brother. She had only slept with him in an attempt to make Ashley jealous. An attempt that had failed miserably.

And then there was Frank Kennedy, one of her long-time fans; after Beau had been born she had felt miserable and had gotten so drunk that she found herself lying in that insipid man's bed the next morning. She could not remember what exactly had happened but when Frank woke up and started given her a slobbering kiss, she could only image the things she had allowed him the night before. She still felt like wincing when thinking about it.

Based on those experiences, sex was overrated in her opinion, but whenever Rhett held her in his firm grip - like he did today on the dance floor - she could not help but wonder what making love would be like with a man like him.

'My, Scarlett, if I did not know any better I would think you are giving me the eye,' Rhett chuckled.

Scarlett almost died with embarrassment but scoffed at him to hide it.

'Don't flatter yourself, Rhett Butler, I know of your reputation. In fact, I have seen the way you treat women and I would rather eat dirt before I let you add me to your long list.'

He seemed unperturbed at her insult; in fact, he grinned as if she had just made a funny little joke.

'Well, have any of these women complained to you, Scarlett? Yes, maybe I cannot be called husband material, but I when I am with a woman, I always treat her right. Something that cannot be said for your singing partner. He is married to one of the nicest women I have ever met, but he still strays from home.'

Scarlett looked up at him furiously.

'Ashley is a lot of things, but he has never cheated on Melanie.'

'Well, mental infidelity is just as bad, Scarlett,' he said while giving her a scrutinizing stare.

She flushed till her roots.

'You are despicable, Rhett Butler,' she hissed before she pulled her hand out of his grip and left him standing on the dance floor.'

She tried to hide her confusion from the other customers but she hurried backstage and was relieved when she was finally able to close the door of her dressing room behind her.

'Oh, why can't he be nicer? Why can't he be more like Ashley? He is the only person I can be truly honest with, the only person I be myself with, but then he always has to spoil it with that sharp tongue of his,' she said to her own image in the mirror. The many light bulbs around made it impossible to hide anything. She saw the amazing colour of her eyes but also the few cracks that had started to show on her face. The mirror also revealed to her that tears that had now silently started to fall on her cheeks.

It did not matter. All of it did not matter any longer. Ashley did not matter, Rhett did not matter; they both mattered no longer. Soon they would both be out of her life. Ashley she might occasionally meet when they were invited to the same concert hall or TV show. But she swore it would be a long time before she would perform in this lounge again – it held too many memories of Ashley and her - and by that time Rhett Butler might have found a bar in Houston that did have some decent country singers. Somehow she could not image a life where Rhett would not be around to throw some wisecracks at her or to show some other form of mischief.

She realized that she had grown attached to him, to his friendship, as strange as that friendship may be. Not for the first time she wondered why Rhett always searched her out. He had made it clear that he was not a man to fall in love with a woman and she, in her turn, had made it clear that she would not be one of his bed partners. Did he enjoy her friendship too, or was she just an amusing pastime when he happened to be in Nashville? And what about the fact that he travelled to Nashville all the time? She could hardly believe the Texans did not know how to put together a good line dance or a half decent country song.

Something else must be pulling him back to Nashville time and time again, but what? Scarlett wondered.

'Can I come in?' she heard a familiar voice say, after a discreet knock on the door. She quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand before she told him to come in. But he was not fooled.

'Ah, my pet, why are you crying now?' he said before he let himself fall into one of her chairs, uninvited. Then he pulled out a cigar and this time he had the decency to raise his eyebrows questioningly. She nodded that he could go ahead.

'He is not worth it, you know,' Rhett said before he lighted the cuban. For a moment Scarlett thought he was referring to himself.

'Oh, Ashley, you mean?' she said. 'Yes, I know,' she sighed.

'You do?' Rhett replied, not hiding his surprise.

'Oh, Rhett, I have been such a silly goose, running after a married man. It is just… Well, Ashley is just about the only man I have ever known that has put up some sort of fight and, well, I guess I found him interesting because of it. Because you should know, Rhett, that ever since I turned sixteen, men only notice me for my body, never for my mind and I always felt that Ashley is one of the few that appreciates my mind.'

'Well, I cannot speak for Ashley, Scarlett, but I do admire you for that singular unscrupulous mind you have. At the same time it is hard for any man to ignore that delicate little figure you have. I, for one, have never made it a secret that I want you like a have wanted no woman before you.'

'You do, Rhett? I mean, now, still? I know you made some improper proposals when we first met and you are more impudent than any other man I know, but I thought you mostly enjoyed talking to me these days.'

'Oh, I do enjoy talking to you, Scarlett. You are a clever woman and the way you view the world is mighty interesting, but you should know better than to believe that I stopped seeing you as a woman. In fact, the longer I know you, the more interesting you become. Rarely have I found wit and brass combined in such a handsome little package. '

'Oh, Rhett, stop mocking me, I do wish you would be serious for once.'

'I am serious, Scarlett. Well, as serious as I will ever be,' he grinned.

After that they both were silent for a while. Through the walls of Scarlett's dressing room they could hear the first tones of a song from one of Ashley's fellow singer: A fairly new talent that went by the name Johnny Cash.

Rhett let the stump of his cigar fall into an astray before he abruptly got up and bowed gracefully before Scarlett.

'_This_ happens to be my favourite song, Scarlett. Would you please do me the honour of giving me the next dance?'

'Here? But, Rhett…' she started to protest but he had already pulled her up from her seat and when she felt his large and commanding hand on the small of her back she stopped complaining.

The way they turned in the small room could hardly be called a dance but Scarlett enjoyed being in his arms; somehow the world seemed at peace again. She was closer to him than she had ever been and she enjoyed having him near. He smelled so good; a strong and spicy mixture that was gradually taking over her senses. His grip was firm yet comforting and she wished the dance would last forever.

The both did not speak but listened to the music that came to the room in a muffled manner. At one point Rhett looked directly into her eyes and he sang along with the lyrics.

'…_fell into a burning ring of fire_

_I went down, down, down_

_and the flames went higher._

_And it burns, burns, burns_

_the ring of fire_

_the ring of fire…'_

His deep baritone voice was devoid of mockery when he sang to her and his stare was so intense that Scarlett finally broke the eye contact. Rhett hesitated for a second and then lifted her chin up with his index finger.

'I meant what I said, Scarlett, you are a rare combination of beauty and brains. In fact, I always intended to have you. I knew you needed time to get over this Wilkes guy but my patience has been tested to the limit. Now that he has made it clear to you that he does not need you no longer, I hope there is some room in your heart for me.'

Scarlett just stared at him with her green eyes, which were big with astonishment.

'So what do you say; are you ready to take a chance with a cowboy like me?' The mocking light was back in his eyes now but Scarlett was still reeling from the serious words he spoke earlier. Her first instinct had been to laugh in his face. Rhett and she? A pair? The idea was preposterous. But she still was captured in his solid grip, and she felt a security that she had never felt before. She also felt at ease being so close to him while at the same time his proximity made her feel shaky on her feet.

Before her mind was made up the words started falling out of her mouth.

'I cannot be with you, Rhett; I would never have a moment's peace being married to a guy like you. I know what you are like; you are no one woman man. Not that I need a hermit for a husband but if I give up Ashley forever it will be for a man that I can rely on. A man that makes me feel secure. I will not deny that your wealth can buy a lot of security and there are uglier men to marry, I suppose, but I doubt if you…'

His laughter, which echoed through her dressing room, made her stop talking.

'Hold on a moment, my pretty little vixen. Who said anything about marriage?'

Scarlett felt stupid; he had probably only planned to take advantage of my weakness in order to sleep with me and add me to his list of conquests. And here I was, babbling on about marriage, about a life together. He must think I am such a fool.

She felt her cheeks burning and suddenly she could not get any air.

'I need to get out of here, I... I can't breath,' she whispered. But before she could leave the room a hand of steel quickly grabbed her wrist.

'Listen…' he said. Scarlett fought hard to compose herself and when she finally felt ready to look him in the eye she was shocked by the unguarded emotion he showed.

'Although I don't see any need for it; if you want us to be married, we will be.' Scarlett looked at him, unsure what to think. She searched his face for any sign of mockery, but for once he looked earnest.

'If this is just one of your games, Rhett Butler, I swear, I will…'

'No, Scarlett. As surprising as it is to me, I am proposing marriage. You see, I did hit upon an oil well, back in Texas. A rather large one, that will make my fortune even bigger than it is. But I will need to go back shortly to oversee the drilling. After all, in business you cannot trust anybody better than yourself. So it will be a long time before I can return to Nashville and I fear that if I leave my courting till I return you will have lost your heart to another man that is not worth it. So I thought, why not me, a fine young man who has a bad reputation and a way with women?'

At first Scarlett was confused but then it dawned on her what he really proposing to her. She could have this man: this strong, very wealthy and undeniably handsome man dancing on her strings! Gradually a victorious little smile appeared on the corners of her mouth.

'Oh, no, you don't,' Rhett said. 'I have seen the way you treat a man that you love, Scarlett; I know who inspired Ashley Wilkes to write some of his more heart-wrenching country songs. I see you are contemplating the transfer of your tempestuous affections from Ashley to me and I fear for my liberty and my peace of mind. No, Scarlett, I will not be pursued as the luckless Ashley was pursued.'

He shifted towards her and when he was close enough he folded his hands behind her back and drew her nearer.

'I will make you happy, Scarlett; I will give you everything you need and more. I will make every day of our married life magical and the nights even sweeter but remember this, darling: All the time I keep a close watch on this heart of mine, I keep my eyes wide open all the time, I keep the ends out for the tie that binds but because you're mine, I walk the line.'

Scarlett did not fully grasp the meaning of those words but she instinctively knew that her victory was not as glorious as she had thought. Rhett had watched her face carefully and grinned audibly before his mouth crashed down on hers.

Scarlett had never been kissed like this. She felt hot and cold at the same time, her mind was buzzing, her feet seemed to sway above the ground and for safety she held on to the lapels of Rhett's jacket. When she felt close to fainting he finally released her and cradled her head against his shoulder. Gradually her breathing became normal again. Then she mumbled a few words that Rhett could not hear because she had buried her face into the fabric of his jersey.

'What did you say, Scarlett? 'Rhett said while he turned her face up towards him.

'I will, Rhett, I will make you walk the line,' she said, her green eyes blazing.

Rhett smiled at her.

'I know you will, honey. I know you will.'

THE END

**A/N: The prompt was obviously from 'Walk the line' by country legend Johnny Cash. I checked the internet for the exact meaning of the words, but the 'experts' seem to disagree. Therefore I put my own spin on it and used it the way I could image Rhett using such words. **


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